Was it worth it?
by Flyere
Summary: You called me a sadist, a monster. Crazy, even. But was it me? No. I learned. As I died, I gave up to much to geth the praise of others. It wasn't worth it, not in the end. Not when I realized what I had done. Clove, oneshot


The first time.

You call me a monster, a sadist. I can't argue with you- I did portray all of those. But it wasn't me.

When I was young, I was the cute, happy go lucky one. I liked to run and play games, and I diddnt care whether my toys were books or knives. I thought everyone was taught to throw knives when they were little, or to use a sword.

When I was ten my father sent me away. He took me to a huge building, which I would later know was thetraining center. I asked him why? Why did he have to leave me know?

He told me he had to go to the capital. My father had me almost seven years after he became a victor. He had been a mentor twice, both times bringing home a victory.

that year, he sent me a letter. It was full of nice things, and it made me smile.

I went to see him when he came home. I knew the tribute that year was dead, I saw him die.

My father did not speak to me. When I went home, he opened the door and slapped me.

I recoiled. My father had never hit me, or hurt me.

"it was your fault!" he screamed. "I had you and became a lesser mentor! He died and it was your fault!" he slapped me again. "get out of my sight!" he slammed the door and left me feeling hollow. What happened?

with heavy heart, I returned to the training center. I never spoke to my father again.

The first mistake I made was in a fight. I knocked over a boy and thought I was finished. My mentor strode up to me, and slapped me hard. "you idiot!" he yelled. "you could have hurt hm more! If it was real, kick him or something! Or go for the kill! Nfinish tart something you don't have the gts to finish."

I nodded meekly and backed away. He grunted and called "go train."

I nodded and did so.

That was the first time I realized I had to be vicious if a wanted approval. I kicked my next opponent hard, and punched his stomach. My mentor- Corrilus, slapped again. But this time it wasnt me. It was the defeated boy. And I liked the sense of power it gave me.

I first killed someone when I was sixteen. Corrilus took us all to the arena, and brought out avoxes for us to fight. Whoever lost died.

I watched most of the avoxes die, although they put up a fight. A large boy, whom I would later know as Cato, simply stepped up and kicked his avox before plunging it in to his chest. He flashed me a cocky smile after. It was all I could do to not whip out my knife and kill him. I diddnt have time anyways, i heard "Vaarton, Clove"

I was the last to go. Everyone was gone, it was just me, the avox, and Corrilus.

I bonded up to the ring, reach for a fight. I loved it now, it was exhilarating and fun. I relinquished the powerful feel I got when won.

I has the avox pinned, ready to sink my knife in when Corrilus grunted. I looked up.

"come on clove. This is too simple. Give me a show."

I looked back down at the avox. A show? I knew what he meant. But could I do it?

"do it now" he said coldly. "or you will regret it"

I took a deep breath, and started.

He told me what to do. Cut, punch, it was awful. I couldn't stand it. His screams were awful. I was happy when he finally told me I was done.

I promised myself never to do it again, but I couldn't. He smiled. "well done! When you go in to the arena, I want you to kill just like that! You are going in next year, clove. Make me proud."

I stood there, shocked. I had to do it again?

Pits toning, I told myself. If I do it he will be proud of me. Besides, it's only a few people. What's the harm done?

So I began. The trials take place the year before you volunteer. In them, you had to kill your final victim. So I did, and I never forgot Corrilus's proud face.

You think it's sick, I know. But it's a great way to escape everything else.

When I was reaped, I was ready. So wha if it wasn't my year? I could still win, and wipe the s,uh, arrogant smile of Cato's face.

I never expected to fall in love with him.

I barely got to kill. I killed one girl, the girl from three, and one boy, the boy from seven, in the blodbath. I diddnt get a chance to do anything but stab them.

I wanted to kill the girl on fire, but Cato already claimed her. When it was just the two of us, I asked him if I could kill her. He responded "alright, but onlyof you give the audience a good show"

I promised I would. At the cornucopia, I prepared to do just that. I imagined she was my father, and I was going to kill him for what he did to me.

Bt I died. He killed me. I screamed Cato's name, but it was no use. I was doomed.

Suddenly, I saw my life. Myself as a young girl, growing up, becoming more and more brutal with each victory. I saw the avox, screaming in pain. And I realized it wasn't me. It wasn't me at all.

It was Corrilus. He brainwashed me, told me I cod be the best if I gave the audience a show. It was his mind, not mine. I was just along for the ride.

So I died. With the districts happy, having been disgusted with my "madness." I wanted to scream, it wasn't me, I diddnt realize.

A part of me was always stuck in there, trying to get out. I was a fool, I let myself go in exchange for what I had lost on that terrible day my father returned: praise.

I know now it want worth it.


End file.
